Inconsolable Chrysanthemum, Inebriated Cockatrice

It is generally recognized that you must never become settled into a
routine in Metamor Keep, as the strange, random nature of the Keep
always seems happy to shake any sense of normalcy as soon as it
appears. It is every man's nature, however, to let their guard down
if they are given any excuse, and such was the case with watch officer
Shane Reuben on his patrol through the streets of Metamor one quiet
afternoon.

Though Shane had once been Sherry, he had allowed himself to slowly
grow used to his new life, and walked about the Keep whistling and
slinging his rather dull sword about like a baton. His shift always
seemed quiet, and so he had achieved some small measure of the
normalcy all else in the Keep seemed to have lost since the Curse.

That was, of course, until he heard a voice call to him from beside the road.

"Watch! Over here, sir, I require assistance!"

It was a small voice; recognizably male but higher than Shane would
have expected. Shane expected an age regressed Keeper, and so lowered
his gaze. He found, however, that his gaze fell farther than usual to
find the source of the voice.

What first he found was a flower bed, looking quite lovely with the
exception of a strange, winding trail of crushed plants through it's
midst, accompanied by an equally winding set of clawprints. Shane
tisked; his mother would not approve of such disregard for flowers.
Before he could return to his routine, however, the voice came again.

"Sir, down here."

Shane's eyes happened across a certain flower, a chrysanthemum, that
turned its head towards him. As the voice came again, he could tell
that it was the flower speaking, and found that his voice caught in
his throat as he tried to speak. Truly, he had seen nothing like this
in all his years.

Finally, he managed to speak. "Sir?"

"Yes, it's me, the flower," the voice came again. "Please, there
is a
criminal on the loose, you must help!"

Shane cleared his throat and looked about before carefully stooping
beside the bed. "The Watch is here to help, sir. Um... Can you tell
me what it is that happened here?"

"Oh, it was horrible! Some great oaf came through this bed. He tore
through everything, and when I tried to stop him, he laughed at me and
poured his ale on me!" As if for emphasis, the flower somehow
shrugged into petals and let drops of amber liquid drip onto the dirt.
"If we little people can't be protected, how can Metamor be safe?"

"Calm down please," Shane said, still not believing he was talking
to
a flower Keeper. "I'll do whatever I can. Can you... Describe him,
at all?"

"I can't see, but my roots feel the ground very well. That's how I
knew you were a Watchman."

"You could tell I was from the Watch by feeling the ground?"

"I can't explain it! Still, the creature was some sort of strange
reptile, but I also felt feathers. He left through that way," the
flower turned its head towards the end of the path through the
flowers. "Please, stop him before he hurts anyone else. Also, please
avoid the bed for now. I will tend to the other flowers as much as
the Curse allows, but I need time to work."

Shane nodded and carefully stepped around the flower bed until he was
in the alley the trail led down. He walked down the path, glancing
back at the flower Keeper for a moment. Only in Metamor could such
scenes be found.

He followed the trail down the alley, which was fortunately somewhat
damp because of liquor. His trek was fortunately somewhat short. At
the end or the pathway, the trail ended at the tail of a strange
creature, who cackled drunkenly as he slumped against a wall. Shane
recognized it as a cockatrice; a dragon's body led abruptly to the
head of a rooster, one dragon wing pinned between the creature's body
and the wall, and the other wrapped around a mug that the creature
continually resorted to, only to find it empty. It was still cackling
intermittently when Shane arrived.

"Excuse me, sir!"

The Cockatrice turned and saw the watchman. "Hello problem, what
seems to be the officer?" He let loose another string of cackles,
making Shane unsure whether the switched words were intentional. The
smell of the liquor was clear, though, as was Shane's duty.

"Sir, I've had a complaint about your conduct tonight. I'm afraid I
need to escort you home for your own safety."

"I'm not as think as you drunk I am!"

Shane rolled his eyes, then averted his gaze as the Cockatrice turned
to look at him. "Sir, I have to insist that we get you home. You can
either cooperate, or I can take you in for an evening in the
dungeons."

"I could just turn you to stone," the Cockatrice commented. He bobbed
his head around, trying to make eye contact with the officer.

"I'd rather you didn't, I'm allergic to being stone," Shane offered.
The Cockatrice burst out in peals of laughter, apparently amused by
Shane's lame attempt at joking.

"I like you, chief. All right, I'll let you take me home. I don't
want any trouble."

"Fine. Also, watch any flower beds you come across. I almost had to
charge you with manslaughter because of your carelessness."

"Manslaughter? Oh, the flower? Don't worry about him, I know the
guy. I just thought he'd like a drink, that's all. The ale was
really good tonight."

Shane shook his head. He'd heard everything now, he was sure.
Flowers being friends with cockatrices, and cockatrices thinking
flowers wanted a drink of ale.

"Whatever," Shane said. "Let's get moving, I'll need to file
a report
on this, and I'm already getting to the end of my shift."

The escort trip was uneventful, and Shane was able to sign off on a
report before his shift was over. Still, he learned his lesson, never
to fall into a routine in Metamor. With luck, his memory of that
lesson would last at least until the end of the week.